


Like a Lightning Strike

by Hllangel



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-24 06:43:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2571923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hllangel/pseuds/Hllangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i></i>
  <br/>
  <b>Swapped Jackets, Mahiki, M4M</b>
</p><p><i>I think you accidentally took my red tartan jacket from Mahiki last night. My keys were in my pocket. You had an avocado in yours, which I'm sure was equally important.</i><br/> </p><p>One Direction never make it past judges houses, but Nick and Harry manage to meet and fall in love anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Lightning Strike

**Author's Note:**

  * For [becka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/becka/gifts).



> This for Becka, who asked for Nick being Harry's celebrity crush as a teenager and a Craigslist missed connections AU. This is a combination of both, and I hope you like it! I certainly had fun writing it. 
> 
> Thank you to my beta and britpicker and cheerleader (all three of you). This fic would have been much more terrible without you. 
> 
> This is a work of fiction based on the lives and likenesses of real people. 
> 
> Title from The Vamps' _Somebody to You_.

It's not until Nick gets home and reaches into his coat pocket for his keys that he realizes something's wrong.

This can't be his coat. Not unless his house keys (and, let's be honest, his friends' house keys, because they're all ridiculously codependent) have magically transformed into an avocado. A good one, too, he thinks after he musters up enough concentration through the remnants of that last drink to squeeze it gently. It's at the perfect stage of ripeness; It'll make an excellent breakfast.

He feels sorry for the poor soul who lost it.

He also feels sorry for himself, because he's now locked out of his flat. Collette only grumbles a tiny bit about having to come rescue him when he calls. Honestly, she's helped him out of worse jams before.

"What am I going to do?" Nick moans to Aimee on the phone the next morning. He's not lost his wallet or his entry pass for the BBC, but he's without house keys, having given out the last of his spares just last week.

"Craigslist?" Aimee suggests. "Go away, my head hurts."

"You called me," Nick points out. He's definitely in the right on this one. He loves Aimee, but she's a whiny baby with a hangover. She hangs up on him without even saying goodbye.

Nick is generally pretty good about not losing things outside of his house; losing things _inside_ , however, is a completely different story because he has the memory span of a goldfish and a tendency to leave small things on the first flat surface he sees instead of in any set place. He's never lost his keys in a more serious way than leaving them at a friend's house before.

After digging through the jacket to see if he can find a phone number or scrap of paper or anything with more information on it than an avocado, he caves to Aimee's advice and puts up an advert on Craigslist.

> _**Swapped Jackets, Mahiki, M4M** _
> 
> _I think you accidentally took my red tartan jacket from Mahiki last night. My keys were in my pocket. You had an avocado in yours, which I'm sure was equally important._

He thinks he sounds a bit catty, but he's still hungover despite the avocado on toast he'd eaten earlier (it really had been a spectacular avocado), so he hits _post_ and takes himself back to bed. It's probably not going to work, and he'll have to beg everyone for new house keys.

~*~

Louis wakes Harry up by jumping onto his bed and straddling his waist. Harry blinks blearily at him, the dim light of his dingy bedroom still enough to set off his hangover. He tries to twist and bury his face in the pillows, and also throw Louis off, but he's having none of it, and all Harry is able to accomplish is a slightly pulled back.

"Get off," he tries, pushing at Louis' knee.

"You promised me an omelette. You sent me a text yesterday saying, and I quote, _I have found the perfect avocado._ "

Harry vaguely remembers that. Then he'd met up with Zayn at Mahiki and they'd managed to talk their way inside the VIP area. Probably because Zayn is unnaturally beautiful. The rest of the night is a bit of a blur. He'd spotted _Alexa Chung_ and _Nick Grimshaw_ , and then taken a few too many shots in a bid to get the courage to go and talk to them. Nick, especially.

"Make it yourself." Harry is not getting out of this bed for at least a few more hours. Even if he wasn't hungover, it's a Sunday morning. You're allowed to sleep in on a Sunday morning. You're _supposed_ to.

"I've got work. Get up, I need breakfast and I don't want to set the kitchen on fire again."

He's got a point. The last time he'd tried to fry bacon, the flat had smelled of smoke for a week. "Fine," Harry grumbles, and Louis crows his victory before jumping off the bed.

It takes another ten minutes for Harry to pull himself upright and clean his teeth to get rid of that stale alcohol taste, but there's a cup of tea waiting for him when he gets to the kitchen. He detours to the sofa to get his avocado, which should still be in the pocket of his jacket that he'd very delicately laid over the sofa when he'd stumbled home, careful not to bruise it.

Instead, he finds a bundle of keys. He's so disappointed that he has to sit down on the sofa and mourn, and he's still sitting there when Louis comes to find him, tea in his hand. Harry takes it from him and takes a sip. The jacket certainly _looks_ like his.

"Why are you looking at your keys like they've killed your cat? And where's my avocado?"

"I think I stole a jacket," is what Harry says. "Or someone stole mine. My mum gave me that jacket for my birthday."

Louis starts digging through the pockets, and comes out with a few coins and a receipt from Pret for a chocolate croissant. It's not exactly helpful in trying to find the owner of the jacket.

"At least it looks like it's your size?" Louis says. "Keep the tea. I'll make myself some cereal."

Harry hands the tea over anyway and goes back to bed. He doesn't need to be awake now.

~*~

Now that they're all in London, they make it a point to have a band dinner once a week.

"We should give it another go," Liam is saying in the living room. Harry's too busy in the kitchen with the roast to pay much attention. It's likely to be the same conversation they've been having for months anyway. "It's not like we're getting very far with social media and open mics." 

"You really want to go through that again, Liam?" 

Harry winces. It's a good thing the roast is done so he can call everyone to dinner. They don't need another fight, not when they have to actually make the decision tonight. 

By the time they're set around the table, the squabble seems to have died down, and Louis is glued to his phone. 

"What've you got for us then, Tommo?" Niall asks, once they've all finished most of the food. 

"Well there is an ode to Tom Hiddleston. Someone wants him to know that he is a lovely person. Not like he's going to see a craigslist ad, yeah? Someone else has put up a picture of toenail clippings." 

"Gross," Liam says, making a face. 

"Oh look, a dick." Louis continues browsing. 

Niall throws a potato at him. "We're eating dinner." 

"Oh here's a good one. _You were the tall brunette with the near perfect body that farted in the bread section last night. I was the short guy next to you that looked over and asked 'was that you?' You quickly replied 'No... Wasn't me!' You almost seemed insulted I would ask. As the stink grew you continued to deny your flatulence, but it was evident. I tried to get of the stench by waving 2 loafs of ciabatta bread. You proceeded to storm off in an angry manner. You are beautiful and even if you are a liar and fart like Clydesdale, I'd love to meet up sometime albeit with a bit caution at first._

Niall has to drop his fork and cover his face with his hands because he's laughing too hard. Even Liam is giggling over Louis' dramatic reading.

"Perfect girl for you then," Harry says, poking Louis in the thigh. It's all he can reach, as full as he is, and he's not moving. At least, not until they move the serious discussion back into the living room. It's a rule: no real talk while there's food. They get too distracted. 

"Hazza, I think I found your jacket." 

The others look puzzled, but Harry grabs the phone and skims the advert. Then reads it again to be sure. He hits _reply_ , not caring that it'll go out from Louis' email. 

_My flatmate nearly murdered me for losing that avocado. I'd promised him an omelette. Still have your keys, could meet you somewhere this week to give them back? text me, this is my flatmate's email._

_Harry. x._

~*~

They vote unanimously to re-apply to the X Factor.

~*~

Harry's phone vibrates halfway through his seminar, but he ignores it. Phones are banned, but most people just keep them in their lap under the desks. Harry tries not to, most days. For all that he spends all his spare time with the lads trying to get their band off the ground, he'd promised his mum that he would actually try to get his degree, too.

He check as soon as time is called and everyone is packing up their things. He's meeting Zayn for lunch so he's expecting it to be a message from him saying he's late. Harry has learned not to show up to a meeting with Zayn earlier than fifteen minutes late because he's never on time for anything. 

It's from a number he doesn't know. _Hiya, Would love to get my keys back. I'm free at lunch today. Or most days, really._

Harry looks at the clock. It's just gone eleven, and he can cancel lunch with Zayn. He sticks his tongue between his teeth and types out, _where? I've got the rest of the day free. Could I get my jacket back as well?_

Louis' been taking the piss out of him all week. It's the same red tartan jacket, only it's not the same at all, because the stolen one doesn't smell right and it wasn't a gift from his mum, his first Christmas back home from Uni. 

_Starbucks on Regent Street? The one near the BBC. I've got to go back into work for a meeting after lunch, so maybe 12:30?_

That should give Harry enough time to get home and get the keys. He's already wearing the jacket. _I'm actually here now, but I've left your keys at home. Should be able to run there and back in time. I'll wear your jacket._

_Alright_

Just like that, Harry's getting his jacket back, even if it's too late for the avocado. He texts Zayn to cancel lunch and nearly drops his Oyster card down a drain as he's trying to fumble it out of his pocket and walk as fast as he can to the tube. 

Despite delays on the line he's only about five minutes late to Starbucks, but he is a bit sweaty and contemplates taking off his jacket. Instead, he shakes his hair out and rearranges it, and gets in the queue for a coffee. His mum keeps telling him that he spends entirely too much on frappuccinos, but sometimes it's the easiest way to get a meal when he's rushing around. 

He's digging his wallet out of his bag when he hears a familiar voice, and oh _shit_. That's Grimmy. The same Grimmy he's had a bit of a crush on since he was a tiny teenager. He'd got blackout drunk trying to get up the courage to say _hi_ to him just last week. There's not a drop of alcohol in sight, but this is probably his best shot, so he steps out of the queue. He can wait a few minutes more for the coffee if he has to. 

"Um, excuse me?" He says, hovering behind Grimmy. He contemplates tapping his shoulder or something, but that would probably be rude. "Sorry to barge in on you like this, I know you're probably really busy and all, but I love your show, I text in all the time but you've never read out my texts and I was just wondering if you have a minute, could I get a picture?"

Nick tucks his own phone away. "Sure. Let's get out of the way of the counter, yeah?" 

They move over towards one of the shelves, and Harry flips the camera on his phone around to the front facing one and holds it out to take a selfie. He can't hold in his smile as Nick leans close, and Harry snaps the picture. 

When they step away, Harry watches Nick take a sip of his coffee. He blushes as Nick looks him over, eyes wandering down his body. He knew he should have dressed better than what he’d grabbed this morning — jeans patched in the knees, his oldest t-shirt, scuffed boots. If he’d known that he was going to run into _Nick Grimshaw_ whilst trying to get his jacket back, he’d have taken a few extra minutes getting dressed.

"You'll be Harry, then?" Nick asks. 

Harry blinks. Has he sent that many texts to Radio 1? Were they creepy enough that Nick knows his _name?_ Then Harry catches sight of the jacket folded over Nick's arms. He hadn't noticed it before, too busy staring at Nick's face, and wondering why the hell he had to run into him _today_. 

"Er, yeah." 

"Sorry about your avocado," Nick says. "For what it's worth, it was very good." 

Harry bites his lip before speaking again. 

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." He's still wearing Nick's jacket. It's a bit awkward to get out, what with Nick turning his full attention on Harry, but he manages without falling over his bag, which he's dropped to the floor between his feet, and hands it over. "Your keys are in the pocket." 

"Aimee will be glad. She'd given up hope of me ever getting it back." 

"My flatmate's got a bit of an addiction to Craigslist." 

"The one who almost murdered you?" 

Harry nods. "He's alright, though." 

Nick takes a sip of his coffee and then frowns. "Are you not getting anything?" 

"I, er, sort of got out of the queue to say hi?" 

Nick smiles. "Let me buy you a drink then. It can't replace the avocado, but it's something." 

Just like that, Harry's standing in a Starbucks queue, chatting with Nick Grimshaw, who is about to buy him coffee. He's remarkably easy to talk to, it turns out. Nick meets his eyes as Harry talks about his property law seminar, and nods along when Harry tells him about the most recent fight between Liam and Louis. He seems genuinely interested in Harry's very boring degree, and Harry just keeps talking; he wants to keep Nick's attention as long as he can. 

"You look familiar," Nick says after Harry orders his coffee. 

"I _was_ at Mahiki last weekend," Harry points out. 

They move over to stand by the counter and he's now completely relaxed, though he's standing a bit closer than he really needs to. Just a bit too close to be considered polite, especially with someone he's only just met. He shifts his weight to his other foot and bumps his shoulder into Nick's. 

"But I don't think we talked or anything. At the club, I mean," Harry continues. "Not that I remember much, really. Must have been pretty pissed to take the wrong jacket." 

"To be fair they _are_ identical." Nick gives him a calculating look. "Have you ever been on telly? You look like someone I've seen on telly." 

Harry blushes again. He's about two seconds away from shuffling his feet in embarrassment. 

"I was on X factor a few years ago? With my band? We didn't make it past judges houses, though." 

"You're _that_ band, the one they put together out of bootcamp."

"Yeah." They sometimes get people who remember them when they go to open mic nights and the like, trying to get people interested. It's not worked all that well so far. "We've just sent in an application for this year, actually. Going to give it another go. It'll be Liam's third try." 

"Good luck to you," Nick says. 

Harry's drink is up on the counter. A minute's wait isn't going to melt it completely. 

"Thanks for bringing back my jacket. It was really good to meet you." 

They shake hands, and then Nick looks at his watch and swears. "Oh shit, Finchy's going to have my head, we're recording a thing in a few minutes. Gotta run. Bye!" 

And with that, he's out the door, walking with long strides back towards Broadcasting House. Harry really should go to the library — he's got a small mountain of reading to do for the rest of the week — but there's no way he'll be able to concentrate now.

~*~

Louis is on the sofa playing FIFA when Harry gets in. He drops his bag and newly re-acquired jacket by the door, and sucks the last dregs of the coffee out of the bottom of the cup. It's really more melted ice and whipped cream by now, and it coats his mouth in a not very pleasant way.

"Lou. _Lou_." He sits right down in Louis' lap, not at all caring that he's blocking the screen. "You'll never guess whose jacket I stole."

~*~

"Harry from London likes this record," Nick says. They've just played the Track of the Day, one that Zane had given him a few weeks ago, promising that it would be his new obsession. Looks like he's right about that: Nick hasn't stopped listening to it for ages.

And Harry likes it, too. Well, he can't exactly be sure that it's the same curly-topped boy who had stolen his jacket the other week — there's probably hundreds of Harrys in London — but there's something about the way the actual text had rambled a bit that makes Nick remember that deep, lazy tone that had come tumbling out of his mouth so unexpectedly. It could also just be wishful thinking, but Nick's not going to save the number to compare to his own phone. 

In the same way that he's not going to look up Harry's band off the X Factor three years ago. 

The second time Nick reads out a text from Harry in London in a week, Fiona raises her eyebrows at him from across the desk. Neither Finchy nor Ian look up from their screens, so she's probably the only one who sees him cut his eyes away rather quickly. 

Nick's not good at remembering things, and even worse at finding patterns, so when even he notices that there's a cheery _Good Morning_ text from _Harry in London_ nearly every day, he knows that maybe it's something to pay attention to. 

When Finchy's not looking, he pulls out his phone and compares the numbers. He at least waits until he gets home, and away from Fiona's prying eyes, to look up the videos. 

In the video, they're all wearing terrible trousers, too loose and falling down around the waist, and they're obviously nervous and unsure, but they sound pretty good. 

Harry's definitely grown up a lot in the three years since he was on the show, though his smile is exactly the same, it seems. Nick keeps thinking about it at random times, the crooked tilt of his mouth and the deep set of his dimples. He wishes he had a copy of that selfie he took with Harry, but he's too lazy to go looking for it online. And who knows if he'd even posted it anyway. 

The point is, Nick would very much like to see that smile again.

~*~

On February first a text comes in from Harry, asking for the Waking Up song. He's generally not up this early, but the text says he's got an essay due at five and it's his birthday. Crap way to start the weekend, in Nick's opinion. He files the birthday thing away to remember later, though he'll probably forget, the way he forgets everything else.

He saves the text for last. "Finally, for Harry in London, who has an essay due today, on his birthday. That's not a very nice way to start a birthday weekend, is it Finchy?" 

"Not a very nice birthday, no," Finchy agrees. 

Harry hadn't asked for anyone specific, so Nick cues up Simon Cowell. 

"Well, Harry, I hope your birthday gets immensely better after five o'clock today. Good luck! Here's Simon Cowell to wake you up." 

He hopes Harry knows that he means with more than just his essay. He's spent a fair amount of time wondering if he'll see him on telly in the autumn again.

~*~

Harry is drunk. Harry is absolutely sloshed and hanging off Louis in one of their favourite pubs because they've survived two rounds of auditions so far. One more before they get to meet the judges. One more before they can come roaring back and prove to Simon that they really do have what it takes. Usually they'd be up and singing on a Friday night, but they're all a bit pissed today, so singing is probably off the table.

They can sing along, though. There's a girl up on stage right now singing an acoustic version of _Wings_ , and Harry can't help but sing along, his voice a bit rough after the last shot of cheap tequila Niall had put in front of him.

He should probably watch that, since they're halfway through the auditions. He needs his voice; they all do. 

They all clap hard when the singer finishes; she'd been quite good, and the pub switches to regular music for the time being. Harry smiles as he watches Niall approach the girl, a smile on his face. Harry knows Niall's success rate, and he's very glad that he doesn't live with Niall. Liam's scowling a bit, since he does live with Niall. 

Whilst Zayn goes to get them more drinks, Harry pulls out his phone, because there's got to be _someone_ he hasn't told about the auditions yet. He'd called his mum before they started drinking. Same with Gemma, and Johnny, and their friends from back home. 

The problem is that he knows who he wants to call. He's got _Nick Grimshaw's_ number, though he hasn't gotten up the courage to send him anything yet. Aside from texting the radio, but that's a different thing altogether. And Nick hasn't read out his texts for weeks. Not since Harry's birthday. It's March now. 

His thumb is hovering over the a new message when the phone is snatched out of his hand. 

"I'm going to delete that number," Louis says, tucking the phone into his pants. 

Harry's not above reaching for it there, even in public, and Louis knows that. But when Harry reaches out, he stumbles over his own feet, and has to catch himself on Louis' shoulders and the edge of the table he'd been leaning against. So, fair play. 

"Louis," he whinges, putting on his most pathetic face. Louis just pushes his face away with a sweaty palm. 

"You're not texting him," Louis says. "I'm deleting that." 

"Louis no. You can't." 

He probably can — he knows the passcode to Harry's phone — but he wouldn't. At least Harry doesn't think so. Harry pulls Louis in closer and drapes his arms around his shoulders. Cuteness is his only defense. 

It works. Louis melts. "Alright! But I'm keeping your phone." 

Harry agrees that it's probably for the best, but he can't let Louis know that. He'd never let it go.

~*~

Harry doesn't get his phone back until the next morning, sneaking into Louis' room to pluck it out of the pile of dirty clothes by the bed. He still wants to text, but in the cold hungover light of a morning after, it's starting to set in that maybe he's not going to get more. He can still text the radio, but it's not the same.

He had hoped, for a few glorious weeks, between the way Nick had looked at him in that Starbucks and the way he kept reading out Harry's texts, that maybe… Maybe he wa just going crazy, and reading too much into things. He'd got his jacket back, given Nick his keys back, and written off his avocado as a sacrifice to the cause. It's a really cute selfie, after all. 

Probably best to just leave it, then, since ther'es lots of other things to concentrate on now that they're in the middle of auditions. The next is in a week, and they've got to impress. Liam is talking about coordinated outfits, but so far they've managed to talk him down from that ledge. 

They've also decided not to go back with _Torn_.

~*~

Nick is very hungover on Saturday afternoon when Daisy drags him down to the shops. They're planning a Sunday roast with everyone tomorrow, and since Daisy needs more time to make her desserts, she's dragged him along to shop, too.

"I can go tomorrow," Nick complains. His head is aching, and he's beyond not hungry even though he hasn't eaten much all day. Maybe it's better for him to be out though, he'll want a cheese toastie in about an hour, most likely. 

At least he's not getting any extra things since he's not hungry. That's one upside. He's prone to buying all sorts of crisps when he's hungry. 

Daisy heads straight for the produce and starts picking up and smelling the organic fruit. Nick tosses some potatoes and carrots in his trolley, but the only other thing he's got to buy is the beef. Everyone else is bringing side dishes and drinks. Collette's promised to mix up some amazing new cocktail she's just learned about. 

There's a display of avocados, two ripe ones in each packet, for two pounds each. It's been ages since he's had a good avocado. The last few he'd bought he'd left out too long until they were mushy and disgusting and useless. He keeps meaning to put them into healthy smoothies in the mornings, but hits snooze too much and runs out of time more often than not. 

Two ripe avocados is probably going to be a waste, but he puts them in his basket anyway. He can have one for his tea tonight, and maybe he's got an idea about what to do with the spare.

~*~

Liam's flat is tiny, but because he works in sound engineering he's got access to the best equipment. And because he's overly responsible he won't let any of the things he borrows from work go anywhere but his flat. So they're all crammed in, clustered around two shared microphones, practicing a new song for their third round of auditions. The song that they'll carry through to the judges if they make it.

Harry's got his phone in his pocket, set to vibrate, and it goes off in the middle of the first chorus, which he's supposed to be leading. 

The thing is, he knows it's not going to be the text he wants. It'll be his mum or Gemma, or maybe Johnny or Chloe. Most of the texts he gets during the week are from the other lads, and they're all right here with him. He's given up on ever hearing from Nick Grimshaw again, but there's a tiny part of him — alright, maybe it's not so tiny — that still believes he'll hear back. He wants to see that intense focus again, and not just in his imagination. 

He can't look at his phone now; he's in the middle of a song. Of course when his phone goes off a second time he loses his place in the music completely. 

It's not his fault, he can only do so many things at once and fewer if he's thinking about Grimmy. Which he usually is. Not specifically, but there's always a running narration at the back of his brain and a lot of it is consumed with _what if_ s. What if they'd made it through the first time? What if they'd won? What if they were already a successful band? Would he already be Nick's friend?

"Come on, Haz," Louis says. They've been practicing for what feels like hours now, and Liam's in that place where he won't let them give up until it's perfect. They _all_ want to be perfect, but no one is as good at finding tiny faults as Liam is. 

"I'm sorry," Harry says. He shuffles his feet a bit, and Niall slings an arm around him, squeezing his shoulder. 

"How about a break, yeah?" Niall says. "I think we're all a bit crazy, it's been hours." 

Liam looks pained, but Zayn taps him on the shoulder and says something so quietly that no one else can hear, and Liam slumps a bit. 

"Fine," Liam says. "Twenty minutes?" 

it'll end up being more like forty, by the time they're actually singing again, but that's alright. Louis and Zayn head out to the corner shop for cigarettes, and Harry slumps onto the ratty sofa and pulls out his phone. 

The top text is from his mum, as he expected. Just a picture of the cat and a question about how they're doing. He replies to it quickly, so he has more time to stare at the other message that's come through. 

_Bought an extra avocado today and thought you might want it? You should come for tea tomorrow to pick it up._

Niall kicks out a foot and nudges Harry's leg. "Everything alright? You've been staring at your phone for ages." 

Harry blinks at Niall, and then again, because how does he actually tell Niall what's just happened? He hands his phone over instead.

"What are you waiting for? Say yes. You've been mooning over him for ages." Niall kicks him again. 

"Owwwww!" Harry takes his phone back and carefully types in a reply. 

_I'd love to. What time should I come to yours?_

It takes about five tries to decide on the message he wants to send, but once he does, he sends it off right away, before he can second-guess himself. As soon as it's gone a twitter notification pops up from Niall, who has been sneakily taking pictures while Harry types. He's got his tongue stuck between his teeth, and a furrow between his brows. He looks like a hawk, staring at his phone, and that won't do. He carefully tucks his phone down between the edges of the cushions and launches himself at Niall. 

By the time Zayn and Louis get back, Harry is sitting on Niall's back and going over the chorus with Liam again.

~*~

Harry's trying to decide on a shirt when Louis flops down on his bed, right on top of the top two choices.

"Get off! You'll wrinkle them." He tugs at Louis' legs, but it's useless. Louis wiggles his bum and wrinkles the shirts even more. 

"Did he say it was a date?" Louis' voice is soft, like he's trying to let Harry down easily. Harry really hates when he does that, even when he's right. 

"No." 

Louis knows full well, he's seen the texts; the first one with the invitation and the follow up with the time, address and waving hand emoji. Harry had restrained himself from sending back an aubergine. He knows Nick's fond of that one, but it's probably a bit too forward. 

"I just want to look nice." Harry's already in his skinniest pair of skinny jeans, the only ones he has without holes in them, and he just needs to pick out a shirt, which he can't do when Louis is lying on them. 

Louis stands up and Harry straightens out the shirts. They're both too wrinkled to wear now. 

"Close your eyes," Louis says, and Harry obeys, standing there in the middle of his bedroom and feeling a bit foolish. Louis's hands are gentle, though, sliding the shirt over his head and moving his arms into place. He puts Harry's jacket on for him, stuffs his keys into his hand and moves him to the door before giving Harry permission to open his eyes. It's a bit awkward, being moved through the flat like this, mostly because Harry knows there's clutter everywhere and he doesn't want to trip, but he makes it to the outside corridor without trouble, and then hears the door slam shut behind him. 

He looks down, and then goes to open the door, which is blocked by something. Louis, probably. 

"Lou! I can't wear this." 

"You're going to be laaaaaate!" Louis calls back, voice a high mocking sing-song. 

Harry pouts all the way there.

~*~

It's apparent within two seconds of Harry arriving at Nick's door that it's not a date. Not unless Nick's idea of dating means bringing along at least ten other people, because there's definitely at least that many inside Nick's flat —Harry can hear them through the door.

Harry rings the doorbell and then shifts back and forth on his feet while he waits, enough so that he nearly trips and has to catch himself on the railing of the stairs behind him. At least he's standing up more or less straight when Nick answers the door. 

Nick looks even better in person than Harry remembers, and his breath gets caught in his throat for a minute, lungs squeezing tight like he's on the verge of an asthma attack right here on Nick Grimshaw's doorstep. His hair is soft and his smile is wide as he steps back to let Harry in. 

"You made it. I'm glad you came." 

"I, er, didn't realize it was a party?" It's a lot to take in. He's heard Nick talk about all his mates on the radio for ages, but now he's about to meet some of them. He is not prepared for this. He was barely prepared for the idea of having his tea at Nick's, just the two of them. 

"Think that's my fault," Nick says with a smile. "Come on in, take your coat off." 

"YOUR COCKTAIL'S MELTING!" someone calls inside. _Someone_ , Harry thinks. That sounds like Collette. 

"Shurrup!" Nick yells back, and there's a roar of laughter as they round the corner into the living room. "You want one? Collette's mad, there's about five types of alcohol in it and it tastes like a cloud." 

Harry smiles and shrugs out of his jacket as Nick introduces him around. Harry knows every single one of these names: Collette, of course, Ian, Aimee, Henry (and his boyfriend, who Harry doesn't actually recognize), Daisy, Pixie, Emily. Harry sort of waves awkwardly and shifts on his feet, but doesn't fall over. 

Nick elbows him towards the kitchen. "Go on, get a drink. I'll take your jacket." 

"You'll want to be careful with that," Ian says. "He'll steal it. It looks like one of his." 

Harry has to grin. " I, uh, stole his first?" 

Something clicks and Aimee's eyes go wide. "Oh you're _that_ one." 

"Don't scare him off!" Nick's voice floats in from what must be his bedroom. Harry wants to explore more, but he's not sure what he's allowed to do. He should probably pay attention to more than just Nick, if he wants to come back. It's fairly obvious that Nick comes with a very close group of friends. 

Collette shoves a glass in his hand and Harry drinks automatically, coughing when it's stronger than he expects. Nick's right, though, it tastes pretty amazing. "This is lovely." 

"Ooooh, listen to him!" Pixie says, her smile wide and her laugh bright. Harry loves her instantly, which is a good thing because the only empty seat in the room is next to her. She ruffles his hair when he sits down. "He's made us watch all your videos." 

"What videos?" There's a few of the band, that they'd put up themselves, but solo covers are more Louis' thing, and his face isn't even in half of those. "You mean the X Factor?" There's about twenty seconds of him singing in total, and then the official judges house performance, and that's it. 

"I caught him watching way too many times," Aimee says, a sly grin on her face. 

Harry blushes at the implication, and has to look at the floor for a while. His face takes ages to feel normal again. 

"You've turned him red, Aims. What did you say?" Nick is clearly back from the bedroom, but Harry can't look up yet. He swirls his glass around and watches the ice cubes clink against each other. 

"I was telling him that you fancy him." 

Nick groans. "You promised." 

"I was drunk." 

Harry chances a look up and finds that Nick's looking at him, and that he doesn't look away when Harry catches his eye. He looks slightly embarrassed and fiddles with his hair, but he doesn't break Harry's gaze. It takes a minute for Harry to make up his mind. 

"That's alright," Harry says slowly. It feels like everyone swivels their head around to look at him, but he's only looking at Nick. "because I fancy you too." 

Harry's not sure who starts the catcall, but within seconds everyone is crowing and Nick is being shoved over in Harry's direction, switching places with Pixie before he can even catch up with what's happening. 

Nick sits close, bumping his shoulder into Harry even as he's got his legs crossed and he's leaning on his arms. This close, his hands look even more gorgeous than in pictures, and Harry has to fight off the urge to pick them up and explore them. Seated in a flat full of Nick's friends isn't exactly the time to do that. 

Maybe later, Harry lets himself hope for half a second. Maybe after everyone else leaves.

~*~

When the timer goes off, Harry follows Nick into the kitchen. He's not the only one, though. Pixie crowds in behind him, as does Henry, everyone taking down plates and glasses and silverware to set the table whilst Nick gets the roast out and nearly topples into the oven when Pixie's hip bumps him. It's probably stupid, but Harry's been around too many kitchen accidents in the last year of living with Louis. He reacts automatically and grabs Nick's hips to steady him.

Nick doesn't pull away when he stands up, either. Just leans back against Harry for a second. 

"Thanks. I could have died." And then he moves to really take the roast out and cover it in foil so that it can rest and not go cold. 

"I have to rescue my flatmate all the time. He's a complete disaster in the kitchen. I do all of the cooking. The only thing I trust him to make is cereal." 

They're standing very close to each other again a few minutes later when Henry comes in. 

"Are we eating anytime soon?" he asks.

"Yeah, yeah." But Nick winks at Harry before grabbing the newly-plated roast and heading out to the table. Henry gets knives out of a drawer and goes, too. It's only the first time Harry's been to NIck's flat, but he's irrationally jealous that Henry knows where everything is, that he can move around Nick's kitchen with such ease. It's a stupid thing to be jealous of, especially because Henry's friends with Nick for years. 

He's grumpy for the entire ten steps it takes to get back into the dining room until he finds that the only empty chair left is right by Nick. Harry loves Nick's friends; they're terribly accommodating. He bumps his foot into Nick's as he sits down, and doesn't move it away. Nick doesn't move his either. 

"So," Daisy says as Nick starts to carve the roast. She's sitting directly opposite Harry and is even lovelier in person than the pictures he's seen of her. Niall has a habit of sending those around in the group texts. "We've seen your videos, but what else do you do?" 

They're all acting like there's more of him online than a few minutes of him singing and another minute of him crying. He's watched those too; he looks all blotchy when he starts crying. Could be worse, though. He could be Niall. 

"I'm at uni now," Harry says. Ian, on Harry's other side, passes him a dish of peas and potatoes, and he has to pause to dish some onto his plate without spilling it. He may have rescued Nick in the kitchen, but he's not exactly steady himself, not with several of Collette's killer cocktails floating around inside him. "Louis says it's a waste, that I won't need a degree in law when we become proper popstars, but I promised my mum. And anyway, Niall's in uni too." 

"He one of your mates, then? In the band?" Nick asks. 

"The Irish one, yeah," Harry says. 

"Do you practice in your parents garage or something?" Collette asks, taking a sip of her wine. The roast has been carved and Nick holds the dish while Harry spears a piece and puts it on his plate, then holds it for Ian to do the same. 

"Mostly Liam's flat. None of our parents live in London. Took nearly three years for all of us to make it down here, in the end." 

Harry barely gets to eat until his roast and Yorkshire pudding are almost cold, what with everyone asking him so many questions. He's definitely had a few glasses of wine, though, as it's a lot easier to talk and drink than talk and eat, but eventually the conversation drifts away to other things, and Harry gets to have his dinner. 

"This is amazing," he says to Nick once he's managed to swallow a few bites. He bumps their knees together under the table, and finds that he really likes the way Nick blushes at the compliment, or the contact, or both. He nudges Nick's knee again, and leaves his own there, pressing against his. "You should teach me. I never manage to make roasts this good and we do roasts most weeks." He's missing tonight's, but the boys had voted that it was okay. Harry only feels slightly guilty about it. 

"Are you asking for private cookery lessons, Harry Styles?" Nick's voice is low, so that it doesn't carry to the rest of the table, but Nick fails miserably because he's a loud person. Daisy and Henry turn to look at them, Harry can see them out of the corner of his eyes, but he keeps his focus on Nick. 

He's been told so many times that he's a flirt, but all he can do right now is flush bright red and nod, biting his lip. "And if I am?" 

It seems to be the right response, because Nick's smile grows even wider, and his eyes sparkle. 

"Oh. My. God." Aimee says. "It's even worse than I thought." 

Nick looks away, but his knee is still resting against Harry's. 

"Shut up, Aimee. Or I'll boot you out." 

Harry stretches out his hand until his pinkie is tucked under Nick's on the table. Given the looks everyone's giving them, they all see it too, but no one says anything else. Harry takes a rather large sip of his wine, and then has to cough a bit when he swallows all wrong. Nick moves their hands closer together.

~*~

By the time Daisy brings out her fruit crisp, still warm from the oven, Harry has had a few more glasses of wine. Pixie keeps reaching around Ian to fill it up for him, and Harry's not going to complain because it's good wine, much better than he can afford to buy for himself. This is probably why he's been keeping his hand on Nick's thigh since the plates were cleared away. It's a bit forward of him, but even though everyone here seems to like him, Nick included, Harry's probably not going to get another chance at this.

Also he's completely lost the thread of the conversation around them but Nick's leg is warm under his hand, and the wine is delicious, and Nick is quite handsome when he doesn't stop messing about with his hair. Harry knew that already, but it's something else to see it in person. To see it from about twelve inches away. 

The dessert is delicious, and he manages to thank Daisy for it, but all of his attention is on Nick. 

He starts awake to Nick gently shaking his shoulder. The table is clear, and even his wine glass, which was still half full, is gone, and the flat is quiet. Really quiet. 

"Sorry," he says, though between the drinks and the impromptu nap, he's not sure his words are all that clear. "Didn't mean to fall asleep." 

Nick sits back down in the chair next to him. 

"You okay to get home?" His voice is gentle and clear, and Harry sways towards it, nearly toppling right into Nick's lap. Nick's hands steady him, and Harry was right, they feel amazing when they're holding him. Even when they're just keeping him from falling over.

"I think that's a no," Nick says with a laugh. Harry really likes his laugh. Wants to hold it, bottle it, take it home so he can hear that quiet chuckle in his ear anytime he wants. He makes a grab at Nick's lips, but the laugh isn't solid and he can't hold onto it. 

"Like your laugh," he says, explaining why he's snatching at the air between them. 

Nick does it again. 

"You're staying here tonight," Nick decides, standing up and reaching for Harry's hands. He should do more of that. The hand thing. The standing up thing makes his face too far away. 

_Oh_ , that's better. Harry's on his feet now, still being held in place by Nick. And his face is _really_ close. Harry looks at his lips. Maybe…

"C'mon," Nick says, with a gentle tug at Harry's elbow. And then he's moving farther away, which is bad. Harry doesn't want Nick to leave. He follows, stumbling over his own feet and bumping into the walls. Nick steers him through the bedroom and into the ensuite where he puts a spare toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste into Harry's hands. 

Alright, Harry can deal with cleaning his teeth, so long as he can hold on to the sink whilst he does it. Nick is moving around in the bedroom behind Harry, but he can't focus on that, or he'll fall over. Harry leaves his new toothbrush on Nick's sink once he's done, and takes a moment to admire how good Nick's sink looks with the extra on it. Harry hopes he's not just going to throw it out tomorrow. That would be sad. 

When he gets back to the bedroom, Nick is in a soft-looking t-shirt and just his pants. His legs look amazing on their own. Harry can't believe he's getting to see them now, all bare and things. He's holding something and Harry finds out what it is pretty quickly. 

"Here, you can borrow a shirt," Nick says, placing the folded shirt on the edge of the bed. 

Harry doesn't need a shirt. He sleeps naked. Everything is better when you're naked, especially sleep. Especially sleep with another person. And not sleeping with another person. They should do that. The not-sleeping. Nick fancies him, right? He had said that earlier. Harry reaches behind his neck and pulls his shirt off, dropping it on the floor and kicking it to the corner. 

He shimmies his jeans off next, falling to the floor as he does it, only to find that he's left his boots on and can't get them off. He can't sleep like this, with his boots and and his feet tied together by his jeans. 

Nick comes back from cleaning his teeth and finds Harry there on the floor, looking forlornly at his boots. It's hopeless, Harry knows. Nick doesn't, apparently, because he squats down and gently removes Harry's boots and socks and jeans and helps him stand again. He moves Harry towards the side of the bed and pulls out the covers so Harry can slip between them. Harry does, but only after pulling his pants off and letting them drop at his feet. He can do some things by himself, thank you. 

Nick flushes bright red and laughs, and looks only at Harry's face when he tucks the blankets around him before moving away. Probably to the other side of the bed, but then he'll be on the _other side of the bed_ , and Harry is on _this_ side. He tugs on Nick's arm and Nick topples forward onto him, which knocks Harry's breath out. Or maybe it's just because Nick is this close. Harry shifts a bit and spreads his legs until Nick is settled between them, on top of the duvet. Harry wishes the duvet weren't here. 

He can't be too upset, though, because Nick isn't moving anymore. He's looking down at Harry, frozen. 

Harry's got just enough coordination to tilt his head up and catch Nick's lips with his own. His lips are warm and soft and taste like mint, the cool of it a sharp contrast to the heat of his mouth. He's so drowsy from the wine and the rich food that he can't move fast, even in this, so he kisses Nick slowly. He brings his hand up to cup the back of Nick's head and bites at Nick's bottom lip to him to open his mouth. 

It's good. So good; as good as Harry had imagined, because it's finally real. That's the real weight of real Nick on top of him. It's forever, and not long enough, when Nick pulls away and rests his forehead against Harry's, running his hand over Harry's cheekbone. Harry blinks his eyes open and stares up at Nick. It's hard work to focus on him. He needs to ask why they stopped. It was nice. More than nice. He just can't find words. 

He just whines instead, and tries to tug Nick back down to kiss him again. It sort of works; Nick presses a small kiss to his cheek and then rolls off Harry to the other side of the bed where he slides under the duvet. He doesn't protest when Harry slides closer and hooks a leg over his. 

He does protest when Harry tries to move into place to kiss him again. 

"Maybe try that again when you're not pissed, yeah?" Nick's voice is soft, almost wistful. Harry knows how he feels. He wants to be kissing Nick _now_. 

Nick doesn't object to being cuddled, though, so Harry uses his shoulder as a pillow and settles in to sleep. He's so sleepy.

"You have anywhere to be in the morning? Any important student things to do?" Nick's voice is mumbly and right in Harry's ear, and he snuggles closer. 

"I've a lecture at half nine," Harry says, not sure the words are coming out fully formed. "Wake me up?" 

Harry knows that Nick gets up obscenely early, but it'll be enough time for him to go home and shower before he has to come back for his lecture. He'll be fine. 

"Alright." 

If Nick says anything else after that, Harry doesn't hear it.

~*~

Waking up with someone else in his bed isn't new for Nick; he prefers not to sleep alone whenever possible. Usually it's Aimee, if she's not at Ian's —a more and more frequent occasion these days — or Collette. But none of them cling to Nick in the middle of the night. This one does.

Harry's got a truly ridiculous number of limbs, judging by how Nick can't move. Nick is still in that comfortable sleep-warm space, but now that he's awake he knows he'll be too hot within about a minute, and he has to get up. He's got a radio show to present. 

It takes a lot of work to extricate himself from Harry, who seems to be a handsy one, even when fast asleep, hands gripping tight in new places even as Nick continues to shake him off. 

"Come on, love. It's morning." 

Harry just groans and tries to pull Nick in tighter, burying his face in the pillows. He mutters something that Nick maybe thinks is a _no_ , or maybe, _leave me alone_ , but whatever it is he's not moving. He's got some time, as Nick still has to shower and get dressed. 

Because Nick's not one for long showers, it's less than ten minutes before he's back in his bedroom, digging through drawers for clean pants and jeans and a shirt. There's the one he'd got out for Harry last night still sitting on the bed, so he snags that and pulls it over his head. There's no guest in the studio today, so he doesn't have to bother doing his hair. Not that he'd do it at home anyway. He never leaves enough time. 

He tries once more to wake Harry. He's burrowed deeper under the covers in the last ten minutes and turned on his side with the duvet tucked up under his chin, his wild hair covering most of his face. This time, when Nick shakes his shoulder, Harry blinks blearily at him, face slack and confused. 

"You going to get up? I have to leave in a few minutes." Nick threads his fingers through Harry's mess of hair, scratching his nails over his scalp. Harry groans at the touch and moves a tiny bit, trying to get more. It's easy for Nick to oblige, to keep his fingers moving, a fond smile tugging at his lips. He barely knows this kid, what is going _on_. "Don't you have a lecture?" 

Harry mumbles something, his voice deep and slurred so much that Nick can't make out any words at all. The gist of it seems to be that Harry doesn't want to get up. Nick doesn't really blame him; his bed is quite comfortable. 

"It's alright, you can stay," Nick says, fingers still moving. Harry's hair is ridiculously soft where it's tangling around his fingers. "I've got to go. Just text me when you wake up so I can have someone come lock up, yeah?" 

"Mmmmmm," Harry says. 

Nick's not even sure Harry's awake anymore. He decides to leave a note for him, just in case he's not understood what Nick's just told him. 

He's a few minutes late for his car, but he's not late to the studio. And he's only slightly distracted by thoughts of Harry still naked and asleep in his bed. It's not that Nick had been tempted to skip work, not exactly. He loves his job too much for that, but he'd maybe wished that he had Fearne's spot, or even Scott's just for the day. Something that would let him come in a bit later, to slip back into bed and let Harry's octopus limbs pull him back into sleep. 

By the time they get to the Waking Up song, Nick still hasn't heard anything from Harry. The note said to text when he wanted to leave, so it's possible that Harry's awake, and maybe even listening. He scribbles a note on the list Fiona's given him, and launches into the feature. 

When he gets to the end of the list and he hasn't switched the music, Fiona looks at him and whispers something to Matt out of the range of the mics. Nick doesn't particularly care. 

"Finally, for Harry in London, who had a bit too much to drink last night and has a lecture this morning. He's not asked for anything specific, Fifi, what should we give him?" 

Fiona is the best one, because she doesn't call him out on air. "Something soft like Jude Law?" 

Nick hits the button for it. 

"Still love that one. Not very good for waking you up, though, is it? Maybe something loud and annoying? What's the loudest we've got?" 

"Maybe the Dalek?" Matt suggests. His brows are furrowed and he's looking at his screen. Nick knows he's running over a bit, but whatever. It's not like they ever run perfectly on time anyway. 

"I think the Dalek's a good choice. Let's go with that." It's loud and annoying and Nick sincerely hopes Harry is listening. "Good luck getting to your lecture, Harry from London." He segues into the next track and takes off his headphones, fixing his hair as he does. 

"You," Fiona says, pointing at him. "Explain. You've not mentioned Harry from London for weeks." 

Nick's terrible at being subtle, and while he's good with secrets, Harry isn't one, not really. He'd been over with everyone else last night, after all. It's just that Nick doesn't know exactly _what_ Harry is, not yet. They've met all of twice, and shared one drunken kiss, and a night in the same bed. There's no reason for him to feel this overwhelmingly _fond_ of him. 

Except that Harry had carried an avocado in his pocket into a club, and he'd started rambling when he'd spotted Nick in Starbucks, before realizing that they were there to meet each other, and he'd told a room full of Nick's friends that he fancied Nick, and then kept their legs pressed together for the entire night. 

"Just a friend," Nick says. "I've only met him a few times." 

"You meeting fans multiple times, now?" Matt asks. "That's not a great idea, mate." 

Nick ignores him. Harry is a fan, sure, but that's not how they'd met. He wonders if Harry's found the avocado he left on the counter in the kitchen for him. 

There are no guests today, so the links are mostly just promo for various things happening around Radio 1, and Nick talking about his weekend. He very definitely doesn't bring up Harry, even though he's getting more and more distracted by how Harry isn't texting him. Is he still asleep or has he left Nick's flat unlocked? 

All Ian says when he comes in is, "Nice job on the waking up song." Nick's pretty sure Ian's guessed that he didn't send Harry home last night. He'd been there when Harry fell asleep at the table. 

By the time they switch over to Fearne, Nick can't stop checking his phone. Has Harry _died_ in his bed? They're supposed to have a production meeting when the show's over, but Nick begs off, gets offended by how easily they agree to let him go, and calls for his taxi home. 

His door is locked, exactly the way he'd left it, and which seems to mean that Harry hasn't left. 

Nick is right. He's in the kitchen cooking bacon when Nick walks in, and the flat smells amazing. Bacon tends to do that. 

"Didn't you have a lecture? I definitely remember you telling me that you needed to get up. I tried to wake you up before I left." 

Harry shrugs. He's just in his pants and a frilly pink apron that Daisy had left in his kitchen ages ago. 

"I forgot to set my alarm last night. By the time I woke up it was too late to make it home for my books, so I thought I might as well stick around." 

"And cook all my food." It's not a lie, Nick hasn't done a big shop in far too long because he's not home half the week. He's pretty sure there's nothing but Diet Coke and some old takeaway. And apparently bacon. 

Harry doesn't respond right away, just continues to poke at the pan, the muscles of his back shifting beautifully as he does. The toaster goes and Nick crowds in to grab the toast and and butter from the fridge. At least he's got the proper condiments. 

Nick butters the toast whilst Harry continues to poke at the pan, eventually pulling the bacon out to drain onto a stack of paper towels, It's still early spring and too cold to go outside — and besides, Harry's not got any clothes or shoes on — but there's a bit of weak sunlight coming through the glass, and the loveseat feels cozy, especially when Harry throws one of the blankets draped over the back of the sofa over their legs. 

"How was the show?" Harry asks, mouth still full of sandwich. 

"Boring. Nothing going today, so it's just me talking to myself in a dark room for three hours." 

"I like when you do that. You and Ian and Fiona and Matt." 

Harry fiddles with his hair, pushing it up and off his face, though the sides are still curled messily over his ears. Nick wants to tuck it back, and maybe repeat that thing he'd done this morning. He's not sure what he's allowed to do now that Harry's fully awake and alert. He's trying very hard not think about how Harry's nearly naked on Nick's sofa. He's got a tattoo on his collarbone that Nick hadn't noticed last night, a banner with _love_ spelled out inside. The edges are a bit dodgy and uneven, and the idea is a bit cheesy, but it seems to fit Harry. What Nick knows of him anyway. 

"Don't let Matt hear you say that. He thinks I'm complete rubbish." 

"Wouldn't dream of it." 

Harry does the washing up when they're done, which is a lot more than Nick's friends usually do. He wants to ask Harry if he's ever planning on leaving, but he also doesn't want Harry to leave. 

Nick does have work to do, though, so he pulls out his laptop and sits down on the sofa. He's reading an email from his agent when warm hands grip his shoulders from behind. 

"Thank you," Harry says right into his ear, before climbing over the back of the sofa to settle next to Nick. He's not wearing apron anymore. 

"For what?" Nick asks.

Harry shrugs. "For letting me stay?" 

Nick turns to look at him. Harry's brow is slightly furrowed, eyes bright and searching. Nick's agent can wait a bit longer for a response. It's not like it's urgent or anything. 

He brings a hand up to thread his fingers into Harry's hair and cup the back of his neck. Nick knows his hands are ridiculous and gangly, but it works in his favor right now. He can still brush his thumb over the corner of Harry's mouth and get him to gasp in a breath, mouth parting invitingly. 

Nick takes the invitation. 

They've kissed once before, just last night, but Harry was drunk at the time and Nick wasn't all that far behind, even if he'd pretended to have it together long enough to get them both in bed. Harry's lips are just as warm, and he tastes like bacon instead of the cool sharpness of toothpaste. He kisses just as slowly, though. Nick is starting to get the impression that he doesn't really hurry at anything, preferring to do things on his own time. It takes a bit of getting used to for Nick, who does everything in a rush. 

This position is crap, though, sitting next to each other, Harry's long legs folded up under him. Nick has _seen_ just how long those legs are, and he'd like to experience them up close. The problem comes when Nick wants to move them without breaking away from Harry's lips, and becomes awkward very quickly. Harry thinks he wants to stand up at first, but really Nick just wants to lay him down and stretch out on the sofa, right where they are. 

Once Harry gets it, he's remarkably accommodating, and they manage to move with only one elbow prodding in soft places. Harry's legs, which were pretty fucking nice when he was standing, are even more magnificent when he's lying down, knees open, reaching for Nick. Nick can't help but trail his fingers up the soft skin inside as he crawls on top of Harry and reclaims his mouth. 

Harry moves a bit faster this time, his hands burrowing up under Nick's t-shirt to get at the small of his back. It makes Nick shiver and press closer, bracing his hands on Harry's chest and running his thumb over the tattoo on his collarbone. Harry tips his head back at that, baring his neck, so Nick moves to taste. The skin behind his ear, the hollow of his throat, the _L_ of the tattoo. 

He can feel Harry getting hard against his hip. It'd be hard _not_ to notice, as he's in nothing but his pants, and it feels like he's quite fortunate in that department. Nick's responding as well, but he's content with just Harry's mouth for now, learning the way they fit together, exploring the smooth expanse of Harry's chest and — are those _extra nipples?_

"You have _four_ nipples? I mean my friend has one extra but I reckon you've got her beat." 

Harry smiles lazily and squeezes Nick's arm. "Sick party trick, right?" 

Nick bends to taste, scraping his teeth over one of the extra nipples, noting that Harry doesn't actually react to it. 

"Not doing it for you, hmm?" He gets a much more satisfying gasp when he bites down on the real one above it. Interesting. 

He's having so much fun that he doesn't hear the door open. He doesn't notice anything other than Harry's whines until Aimee calls out. 

"Oi! Grim!" 

Nick hovers over Harry. There's no real use trying to hastily pull away, as Harry's red lips and flushed collarbones would give them away instantly. His hair is also a bit of a mess, but it looks pretty nearly the way it did when he showed up last night, so that's something. 

"Go away!" 

Harry is biting his lip and looking very studiously at the sofa cushions. Nick tries to smooth down his own hair a bit before sitting up. He's still kneeling between Harry's legs when Aimee rounds the corner, face spreading into a gleeful smile when she sees who is on the sofa with him. Harry's cock is right there and very obvious, but he's not really making a move to cover it up. 

Another interesting thing that Nick is going to have to explore in more detail. At a later date, though, because Aimee is right there. And if that's going to happen, Nick wants to take his time and do it without an audience, at least the first time. 

"You promised me lunch," Aimee says, sitting down on the other sofa, and curling up her fingers so she can check her nails. "And Ian says you have a meeting later." She looks at Harry, who's still laid out on the sofa, even if Nick's moved so that he's not quite on top of him anymore. "Bring Harry if you want." 

"What do you think?" Nick's not really ready to send Harry home, and he's already survived the Sunday roast. 

He shakes his head. "I should get home. Louis will be worried, and I've got to find someone to get notes for the lecture I missed." 

Aimee's eyebrows shoot up, but Nick shakes his head at her. 

Harry sits up properly and then stands to go to the bedroom, probably to get dressed. She doesn't say anything until he's disappeared down the hallway. 

"Ian didn't tell me _this_." 

"Ian didn't know. Harry wouldn't wake up and I had to leave, and then he was frying bacon when I came home." 

Aimee looks like she wants to hear all the salacious details, but before Nick can catch her up, Harry appears in the doorway fully dressed. Nick isn't quite sure how he managed to get his ridiculously tight jeans on that fast, but he has. 

The door is about five steps from the sofa, but Nick walks him to it anyway. 

"Hold on," he says when Harry's hand is on the door. He darts into the kitchen and finds the avocado that he'd left on the counter. He lets his fingers brush over Harry's as he hands it over. Ridiculous. 

"Wha—oh! Louis will be pleased." The lopsided smile on Harry's face brings out his dimples again. 

Harry opens the door, but doesn't step out, just bites his lip and looks at Nick.

"I'll —" 

"I'll see you soon, yeah?" Nick finishes for him. Good, he's not alone in this ridiculous thing. He leans forward to plant a gentle kiss on Harry's lips. "Text me. Not the radio anymore. Fiona's already onto it. Gave me a look when I gave you a spot on the waking up song today." 

Harry smiles. "I think I was still sleeping. Who did I get?" 

"You slept through your waking up song?" Nick puts on his best indignant tone. He _had_ suspected when Harry hadn't texted immediately after, but it's his show and he's allowed to be annoyed when his friends don't listen. Especially when he does things just for them. "I shouldn't tell you, then. You'll have to go listen back." 

Harry reaches out with the hand not holding the avocado and grabs Nick's shirt, pulling him in. It's so easy to go, to settle himself against Harry's chest and slide his arms around Harry's waist. 

"I always do," Harry says, leaning in to kiss Nick one more time. It's slow, it's always slow, but it's also over too soon, and then Harry is out the door and up the stairs. 

Nick waits in the open door until Harry's up at street level. Harry turns and waves with the hand clutching the avocado, and then he turns the corner and is gone. Hopefully not for too long. 

Aimee rounds on him as soon as he gets back into the living room. 

"You," she says, pointing her bright green talons at him, "owe me a story."

~*~

Niall's over the first time Harry texts Nick something that's not about the radio or meeting up to swap coats or avocados. He's been listening to the show, because of course he has, but now that he's got permission to text Nick's actual mobile, he hasn't.

Their last producer's audition is in the morning, and although Liam has told him that as a returning act, they'll probably make it through without any problems — it makes a good story and all that — it doesn't calm Harry down at all. 

_Wish me luck?_ is what he ends up sending, after re-writing it about five times. Niall's the one who sends it, really. He grabs Harry's phone and hits _send_ while Harry whinges at him. 

"He likes you, yeah?" Niall asked. Harry had been forced into telling them all what had happened over the weekend at Monday's band practice. "He'll like hearing from you." 

And Niall _is_ right, but Harry can't quite shake that feeling in the pit of his stomach that he's just some kid, hanging onto Nick's coattails. Nick's nearly ten years older, why would he want to hang around _Harry?_

Nick texts back two seconds later, Harry's phone vibrating where it's set on his bare leg. He snatches up his phone right away. 

_Good luck! with what?_

He hears Niall snap a picture of him typing, but Harry doesn't really care. They've all got a ridiculous number of embarrassing photos of each other by now anyway. At least half the ones on Louis' phone are of Harry naked, he's pretty sure. 

_Last round of preliminary auditions tomorrow._

_You up late practicing?_ It's barely gone seven, and even for a Breakfast Show host who has to get up, it's early. 

_Kicked Liam out. He worries too much even though he's said it's easier to get through the second time around bc it's a story. Still wouldn't let up. Zayn left with him. Louis' out getting our tea._

God, he's rambling even by text. But Nick hadn't seemed to mind it in person, so Harry hits send and then makes a grab for Niall's phone to see the picture. 

It's actually pretty good, all told. Harry's hair is a bit wild and fluffy, and his nose makes him look like a hawk, but he loves it anyway. He forwards it to himself, and then to Nick, captioned _Lads night_ before he can think twice. It's not really a nude, just looks like one. 

_Very laddy_ , Nick agrees. _You watching the football too?_

Harry laughs. He knows Nick doesn't care about football, but he'd at least thought Nick knew when the games were played. _It's thursday?_

 _I don't know. There's always football on._

_It's Eastenders over here._

_Same, actually. can you believe what just happened?_

Louis comes back whilst Harry is typing out his reply. 

"Is that Liam?" Louis asks. "Is he trying to call another rehearsal for morning?" 

"Nah," Niall answers for Harry. Fine with him, he doesn't have to pay his friends any attention if they're talking over his head. "It's Grimmy. Been doing that for half an hour." 

Harry is still typing when Louis grabs the phone and starts scrolling through the conversation. "This isn't flirting, Haz. Though sending him nudes is a good step." 

"Heyyyyyy," Harry protests, grabbing at his phone. Louis moves off the sofa and across the room where Harry's too lazy to really go after him. Louis knows it too, the bastard. Harry scratches lazily at his belly, watching Louis type. It's too much to hope that he'll get his phone back without Louis actually sending anything. 

Sure enough, there's a text that Harry definitely didn't send, and his phone is telling him that it's already been delivered. _Might need either celebration or comfort after tomorrow. You up for it?_. And he's added two aubergines to the end. 

Louis sits down on Harry's lap, and Harry's revenge is to try to push him off. It doesn't work, what with the way Louis is immediately clinging to his neck. At least Harry's hands are free so he can text an apology to Nick. _Sorry about Louis. That's from him._

"Tell Grimmy I said hi," Louis says, reaching for one of the containers on the table. He doesn't move from Harry's lap. 

_But do you want to come to mine after?_

Harry nuzzles into Louis' neck and brings his arm around to show him the message. 

"See? I did you a favor," Louis says around a mouthful of chicken. This time when Harry pushes him, off he goes, plopping down in the empty space on the other side of Niall. 

Harry lets his chicken get a bit colder in favor of texting Nick back. _Auditions at 2, will take a few hours. I can bring something for tea?_

 _I'll cook_ , Nick sends back a minute later. _tell me what you want before you sing._

 _will do. see you tomorrow_ , Harry sends back, and then shoves his phone down between the cushions so he can eat his mostly cool dinner. 

"We didn't have plans tomorrow night, did we?" he asks a few hours later. The whole thing is Louis' fault, but still. He doesn't want to bail on plans if they've already got them. 

"This only occurring to you now?" Niall asks. "Think we were planning on the pub, but that's it." 

"We'll be fine without your stellar company for a night," Louis assures him with a patronizing pat to the head. Harry chases his fingers when they leave, wanting Louis to play with his hair more. "Go on your date." 

"Not a date," Harry mumbles. It isn't. They haven't said it's a date. 

"Sure," Louis says, patting him on the head again. Niall doesn't look like he believes Harry, either.

~*~

It's closer to half six by the time Harry makes it to Nick's flat, and Nick is covered in flour and bits of cooked spinach, because Harry had asked for a spinach and feta pie. And Nick _had_ promised to make him whatever he wanted.

He's also promised Aimee some quality dog-sitting in the near future so that she'll clear out for at least a few hours. It's not exactly a hardship, though. He loves Thurston and misses him, since he lives at Ian's half the time. He'll miss Aimee, too, when she inevitably moves in with Ian. Though maybe it'll be nice not to have to bargain for time alone in his own flat, if Harry is going to be around for a while. 

Nick hopes he will be. 

"Are we celebrating or drowning sorrows?" Nick asks when he opens the door. 

The huge, dimpled grin Harry gives him is answer enough. He pulls Harry in and hugs him before closing the door. Harry trails him to the living room, where he drops his bag and shoes and jacket before following Nick all the way to the kitchen. 

It's a mess. Jamie Oliver had promised a thirty minute meal, but it's been well over an hour and most of what Nick has is still in bowls with the filo pastry is in a mangled heap on the counter. 

Harry takes a good look at it before he comes over over and hooks his chin over Nick's shoulder. 

"I thought you were making me a pie?" 

"I've been lied to," Nick says. It is all the cookbook's fault. "This was supposed to take thirty minutes to put together." 

"We could just go out?" 

Nick twists so he can wrap an arm around Harry's back and pull him in. "No. I said I'd make a pie for you. I am going to finish this." 

After a bit of a pause, he punctuates the sentence with a quick, soft kiss on Harry's lips. Harry sighs into it and melts closer until he's pressed flush up against Nick. Nick really wants to reach up and bury his hands in Harry's hair, but he's still covered in bits of spinach and pastry, and he'd end up picking bits of food out of Harry's hair all night. Not sexy. 

Nick is supposed to be cooking. Really, he is. The oven's hot and everything, but it's hard to remember what step he was on when Harry kisses him back and opens his mouth for him, tongue sliding into Nick's own, hands slipping up under Nick's t-shirt. 

"Gonna get spinach all over you," Nick says. He can't resist holding on to Harry, too. "There'll be none left for the pie." 

"I should let you get to it. I'm starving." Harry doesn't pull away, but does tilt his head to let Nick get at the soft skin behind his ear. Nick bites down and feels the way Harry gasps with his mouth and his chest and his hands. 

It's another few minutes before Nick gently pushes Harry out into the living room so he can finish this bloody pie and feed them. He grabs a few beers out of the fridge. This is supposed to be a celebration, after all. 

The pie takes an hour to bake. In that time they drink two beers each and end up lying on the sofa, lazily kissing. There's no intent to go further because Nick does actually want to feed Harry homemade spinach pie. Also, he'd quite like to not set his kitchen on fire by forgetting that it's in the oven. 

He only regrets it a little bit when he has to sit up and leave Harry when the timer goes off. 

Harry tells him about the audition over dinner; how it had lasted about two minutes in the end, once they'd got through all the paperwork, again. How Liam had been so nervous that he'd almost come to blows with Louis over running through their song _just one more time_ after they'd warmed up. 

"You're through to the judges, right? Meeting Simon next week?" 

Harry nods, and answers the question whilst still chewing, because he has absolutely no manners. At least he covers his mouth. 

"Met him before, remember? Next Friday, though. Mum's coming down. Gemma would, but she's finishing her dissertation. Everyone's parents are coming." 

"How are you feeling about it?" Harry's left hand is on the table, so Nick covers it with his own, lacing their fingers together. It earns him a smile. 

"Nervous. I should know how to do this because we've done it? But it's worse. We've been working so hard and I think we're going a bit mad." 

Nick squeezes Harry's hand.

They clear away the plates, and do the washing-up only because Nick knows he'll hate himself in the morning if he has to deal with the mess after the show. Turns out Harry can actually be helpful when he wants to be, even if he splashes a bit too much soapy water onto Nick's shirt at the same time. 

When they finish, it's nearing ten, which means Nick needs to start thinking about going to sleep. His shirt is growing cold and clammy, but Harry is warm, pressed into his side on the sofa with Nick's legs draped over his lap. Something's on telly, but Nick can't pay attention well enough to even figure out what channel it is. 

Even though he knows he should be going to sleep, it's much more pleasant to finally dig his fingers into Harry's hair and kiss him slow and deep. It's not until he yawns directly into Harry's mouth, causing them to break apart and giggle, that he says anything. 

"I think it's my bedtime." He whispers, before leaning in again to capture Harry's mouth. 

"Oh yeah?" Harry asks a minute or two later. Who can be bothered to keep track of time anyway. He sounds pouty. "I suppose I should go home then?" 

_No_ , Nick thinks. He doesn't want Harry to leave at all. But he does have to go to sleep. He's got no good reason for doing the show as straight through crew. 

"You could stay." 

Harry hums and tightens his hand on Nick's hip. 

"Come on, then." Nick swings his legs off Harry's lap and stands up. He pulls the toothbrush Harry had used last time out for him and changes into a sleep t-shirt. 

Just like last time, Harry clings to Nick as soon as the lights are out and they're snuggled under the duvet. 

"Wake me up in the morning," Harry says into Nick's neck. His his hand is spread out on Nick's belly, radiating warmth just like every other part of him. Nick should be annoyed; he doesn't like being too hot when he sleeps. At least Harry's wearing pants tonight.

"This going to be like last time? I don't have any bacon in. Haven't got owt for breakfast." 

Harry shakes his head; Nick feels the motion more than he sees it. 

"Actually wake me up. Have to go to a seminar. I can't miss it." 

"Alright." Nick squeezes Harry's hand and closes his eyes, falling asleep easily.

~*~

The text comes in as Nick is locking up his door, about to climb into a taxi to head to work.

_Can I get the waking up song today? I promise I'm listening._

It's not quite six yet. Harry never texts this early. He's usually not awake until at least eight, and he texts Nick when he does wake up. Nearly every day. It's nice, really. Until Finchy threatens to take his phone from him so he can do the last hour of the show. 

_You're up early._ Nick is a genius early in the morning. 

_Couldn't sleep. Too nervous._

Harry's been talking about the judges auditions all week, and had spent several hours on Nick's sofa Wednesday night after a tiring rehearsal. He'd showed up hunched over, his hair a mess and his eyes rimmed with red, and it was all Nick could do to restrain himself from literally wrapping him in a blanket. 

He'd made tea instead, and let Harry tuck himself up against Nick's side and pick out what to watch on telly. 

_You'll be fine. Your voice is great._ Nick hasn't heard the whole band together, outside of the years-old clips, but Harry sings along to things seemingly without noticing it, his voice deeper and raspier than Nick would have expected, looking at his face. He sort of loves that. Harry is a lot of unexpected things. 

After a minute, Nick sends another text. _Are you alright?_

_Don't know. feel sick. haven't slept. throat is sore._

Nick doubts that he's actually sick. He'd felt the same the day before his first day of the Breakfast show. It's all nerves. What Harry needs is someone to distract him. 

_Do you want to come in with me?_

It's not exactly unheard of for Nick to have friends come in with him, and besides, this _is_ a bit of a special occasion. 

_Are you sure? I don't want to get in the way or get you in trouble._

_Yeah. It's fine. You should come. Text me when you're close so I can tell them to let you in or send someone down to get you._

Given the time now and how far out Harry lives, he'll probably see Harry somewhere around seven. 

Harry shows just after the waking up song, headphones around his neck as Fiona shows him into the room. Nick's in the middle of a link, so he can only wave at Harry and watch as Fiona gives him the rundown of what to expect, including that he has to leave his tea by the bench. He's clearly stopped at Starbucks on the way in, and is holding a carton of four coffees, along with his own. There's a banana sitting on top of the coffees. 

"This for me?" Nick asks, pointing at the coffees and going to meet Harry once he's got a few tracks queued up. He ignores the catcalls from Matt and slides a hand around Harry's back, pulling him in for a good morning kiss. Harry's mouth is warm and tastes like some sort of tea that's not just plain black. Mindful of where they are, he breaks away from Harry pretty quickly, though he sticks right next to him and grabs one of the coffees. 

"Not that one," Harry says taking it and putting it back. He picks up one of the others and hands it over. When Nick takes a sip, he sees why. Harry's taken the time to prepare it exactly the way he likes it.

"Is that alright?" he asks.

"Perfect," Nick says bending a bit to kiss Harry again. "Thanks, love." 

"Are you going to introduce us properly, then?" Fiona asks. "Or just stand there all day snogging." 

Harry flushes bright red and turns his face away, taking a sip of his tea. 

"Everyone, this is Harry. Harry, that's Matt and Fiona." He points out them out the wrong way around, and is rewarded by a wide smile from Harry. 

"So you're Harry from London, then?" Matt asks, clearly curious as he's met most of Nick's friends before.

"Yeah," Nick says. "He stole my jacket." 

"It looked exactly like mine!" Harry protests. "It was the same jacket." 

"Thirty seconds," Matt says, because Nick can't see the screens and they don't have the music playing in the studio at the moment. 

Nick squeezes Harry's hip before moving back to his chair. "Get him some headphones, yeah?" 

Fiona does, and gives him a chair in front of mic four, over by the window. She also tells him to turn off his phone, even though Nick himself never does. 

Harry spends most of the time Nick's talking bent over his phone and frowning. Probably texting his band, since they've got a big day. As soon as Nick finishes his links or cuts to news, he's out of his chair and over to Harry, doing his best to distract him from thinking about the audition. It's nice, having him around, even though Nick is going to get hell from the team — and then Aimee — later. 

He's had plenty of friends drop by the studio, but he's never kissed them hello. 

When the show is over, he walks Harry to the lifts, which is as far as he can go for now. There's a few meetings he has to sit through before he can escape for lunch. 

"You feeling any better?" he asks Harry whilst they wait. Harry's hand is on his hip and he's got his face tilted up just enough that Nick could easily dip forward and kiss him. He will do in a minute, probably. Harry's hair is wild and falling into his face, so Nick tucks it back as best he can. 

"Not really," Harry says. "Sorry. But thanks anyway. I liked coming in. Was it alright, me being here?" 

"I liked having you here." He'd been distracting, but in the best way. Nick gets bored too easily and having Harry in had given Nick that extra bit of energy that comes from changing a routine. "You should come back sometime." 

"Yeah?" 

The office area is a lot more crowded now, at ten past ten, than it had been at seven when Harry had come in. But it's not like the position they're in is any less intimate, so Nick kisses Harry softly just as the doors for the lift ding open. 

"Yeah," Nick says, watching Harry's eyes slowly blink open again. He still looks tired, but maybe he's in better spirits now. "Good luck today. You'll be brilliant." 

Harry bites his lip and nods, ducking away from Nick before the lift doors close. Nick watches him until the lift is gone, and then goes back into his meetings.

~*~

Nick's expecting to hear from Harry, he just doesn't know when. He's in a meeting at a pub with Rochelle and Melvin and Rickie, along with a few producers for his new show, and he still can't leave his phone alone.

Harry calls when Nick's halfway down his second pint. It's not enough to make him drunk, or even tipsy, especially not with the way he's knocking back chips as well, but it is enough to make him go all warm and flushed when he sees Harry's name on the screen. 

"Hiya! You alright?" Nick has to yell a bit, and press the phone close to his ear to hear. 

"We made it!" Harry's voice is more of a rumble than usual. "We're through to bootcamp. Liam says we're a sure bet to go through there too, but I dunno." 

Back at the table, Rochelle is talking to one of the producers, one protectively curled around her belly and the other making gestures around her head and playing with her hair. Nick runs his fingers through his quiff and fixes it where it's fallen over a bit in the warm pub. His face is flushed, but hopefully no one can tell. 

"You'll be brilliant, you _are_ brilliant, I told you." 

"Want to join us? All our parents and siblings are down for backstage interviews and such. Louis' got about nine sisters I think." 

Nick had introduced Harry to his friends straight off, but Harry's inviting him to meet his _mum_. Nick is more appalled by how that doesn't sound like a terrible idea at all. 

"I'm in a meeting, love, or I would." 

"You're in a pub. I can hear it." 

"Yeah, but we're having a meeting, too. Got a show on BBC three soon." It _is_ technically a meeting. They'd talked about some things for the show over the first round. 

"Sick!" Harry pauses for a moment. "Do you maybe want to come for brunch tomorrow, then? Don't want to wait to see you." 

Nick doesn't care if this is or isn't a good idea anymore. "Yeah. Sounds good. We'll celebrate tomorrow, popstar." 

"Not a popstar yet. We're only to bootcamp."

"You will be. You'll be a proper famous popstar and you'll fly all over the world and leave poor old me behind." Nick really doesn't want to think about that future. 

"I'll come back," Harry says. "Promise." 

He sounds so utterly sincere that Nick can't help but believe him. 

"Alright." He can't say anything else without saying too much. There's a warm swooping in his chest, somewhere near his heart, and Nick's never felt that before. 

"Go back to your meeting. I'll text you about brunch." 

"Congratulations, Hazza." 

Nick takes an extra minute to collect his thoughts before going back to the remnants of his meeting.

~*~

"Come on Harry, hand it over." Liam holds out his hand and curls his fingers up in the universal gesture for _give it here_.

Harry's in the middle of writing a text to Nick and doesn't want to. 

“It’s just a few days, like,” Zayn puts in. But Zayn never even answers his ancient phone, so what does he know?

Harry’s texts are going through more nonsense autocorrects than usual, but it’s Wednesday now, and they’re at his stepdad’s bungalow until Monday, and they’d agreed to a blanket no-phone policy.

This is for band bonding, according to Louis, and for band practice, according to Liam. Harry does agree with both of them, but he’s not said goodbye to Nick properly yet. He’s not going to be able to see him, talk to him, or listen to his show for days.

Louis snatches the phone out of Harry's hand. "It's a band retreat, H. Your boyfriend can wait." 

"Not my boyfriend," Harry mumbles. Maybe. He's not talked about it with Nick yet, even though Nick's met Harry's mum, and Harry's been spending nights at Nick's with increasing frequency. 

"Whatever he is, you've been spending all your time with him, and this weekend is about us. As a band." 

"We practice every day," Harry says. Longer each day as they've gotten closer to Bootcamp. Liam's list of things they can and can't do before singing is getting worse the more time he spends online. "Let me at least say goodbye, please?" 

"I'm doing it for you," Louis says. He sits down on the floor next to Niall, who looks over Louis' shoulder and shakes his head at whatever Louis is typing. On the sofa next to Harry, Zayn's got an arm around Liam's back, calming him in that way that only Zayn can manage. 

Eventually Louis stops typing and stands up in front of Harry. "I am going to give this back to you. You will have twenty seconds before I take it away again." 

Harry wants to argue, but he's more concerned over letting whatever text Louis sent sit without an apology for too long. 

"Give it here." Harry's eyes widen when he reads what Louis said, and he looks up at Louis with his brows up. "I can't believe you said that." 

"Ten seconds." 

Harry will have to deal with Louis later. 

_that was louis not me have to go band bonding and practice back sunday miss you already_. 

He hits send just as Louis snatches the phone and turns it off, and then hands it over to Liam, who tucks it away in the bottom of his bag with everyone else's phone. 

"We should go swimming," Harry decides, and strips off his shirt.

~*~

"Heyyyy, why do I have to sit this out? Shouldn't we draw straws or something?" Harry shakes his still-wet hair at Niall, who is handing out controllers for FIFA. There's only four, and five of them who want to play, and the way they've decided this without him is very unfair.

"We want a proper tournament," Liam says. "A good competition." 

"Sorry," Zayn says, sitting down next to Harry. "I know you, like, love it. But you're pretty terrible." 

They're not wrong, but this weekend is supposed to be about band bonding, and if they're doing something that not everyone can, it isn't, in fact, a very good bonding activity at all. He says as much out loud. 

"It's just for two hours or so," Louis says. "Liam's got it on the schedule." 

Harry probably should have looked more closely at that, instead of crumbling up the copies Liam had given out and having a basket shooting competition with Louis. Louis had won that, too. 

"You can be the referee," Liam offers, sitting down on Harry's other side. Niall and Louis are on the floor in front of the sofa, and Harry is well and truly trapped. Trapped watching his four best mates play a game without him. 

"Referee is in the game, Liam," Harry reminds him. 

"I mean of us. No shoving or funny business." He probably means dick-punching or nipple grabbing. Louis is fond of those tactics. 

"That's boring." Harry may be the youngest, but the others don't usually talk down to him like this, trying to give him meaningless things to do to placate him. It's stupid. "Can I at least have my phone if I can't do anything else?"

"It's band bonding, can't do that if you're texting Grimmy." Niall says. "You can get us some snacks. I'm starving." 

Harry sort of wants to scream, because _yes_ , he wants to text Nick. It's been two days and he hasn't even been able to listen to the radio, because no one else is up that early. And besides, Harry usually listens on his phone, and Liam's got them all zipped up in his bag. Also, he doesn't want to be the one to fetch _snacks_ whilst everyone else is playing video games. Playing FIFA. Harry loves FIFA, even if he is a bit shit at it. 

But if this is really about band bonding, it shouldn't matter. 

He gets up and goes to the kitchen anyway, listening as Louis and Liam start arguing over teams and players. It's going to go on for a while, so Harry fixes tea for everyone and eyes where Liam's bag is sitting in a corner. It's well within Liam's sight from the sofa, but he's in the middle of an argument with Louis and he's distracted. It's Harry's best chance. 

Whilst the tea is steeping, he makes like he's going to get a book off the shelf, even though he knows there's nothing there but his mum's romances and Robin's murder mysteries, which actually sound cool. He should look at those if he's not doing anything else. 

"Foul! Yellow card!" Liam yells. 

Harry doesn't pay him any attention, and keeps moving towards the shelf and Liam's bag. 

"He means you, Harry!" Niall calls out. "We know what you're doing." 

"I'm getting a book," he says. It's true enough; he's decided he's going to pick out a book. He's just going to get his phone back at the same time. 

Louis comes over and wraps an arm around Harry's back, gently tugging him back towards the others in front of the telly. 

"He knows you're busy, he's not worried." 

That's not exactly right, though. It's not that he thinks Nick is going to worry about him or forget about him whilst they're here, it's that he misses talking to him. There hasn't been a day where they haven't talked since the second time Harry had stayed over a few weeks ago.

"I just miss him, is all." 

Louis gives him a squeeze and heads back to the game, dragging Harry with him. 

"Weren't you making tea?" Liam asks as soon as Harry sits down. He doesn't want to go get it, but he made it and he doesn't want it to go cold, so he gets up again to fetch tea for his very ungrateful band.

~*~

They've brought all the mattresses into the living room for the duration of the weekend, sleeping in a big pile the way they had the first time they'd come here. It's comfortable, but three years later, Harry is a lot more used to having his own space, even if it is in his tiny room in their tiny flat. Plus, Niall snores and Louis kicks.

And the real problem is that none of them are Nick. 

Harry sleeps quite well with him. 

He's the only one awake, too, and he's considering poking Niall until he wakes so they can go raid the main house for food, but then he realizes. _He's the only one awake_. There's no one to stop him from getting his phone out of Liam's bag. 

Once he's turned it on, he grabs a blanket to wrap around his shoulders and goes outside, sitting in one of the lounge chairs by the pool and bringing his knees up to his chest as he calls Nick. It's late, nearly three in the morning, but it's also the weekend. Harry can't remember if Nick was planning on going out or not, but he's going to call because it's very early Saturday morning and he and the boys aren't going back to London until Sunday night. 

It rings nearly to voicemail before Nick answers. 

"Hiya." 

He sounds a bit rough, like Harry's just woke him up. He curls his legs further up against his chest and holds the blanket tight against the cold night air. 

"Hi." 

"Harry? Is that you?" 

"Did you not look at your phone first?" 

"Was almost asleep, wasn't I? Might have been, actually. I think I was having a dream about Ian." 

Harry can't help the smile that creeps out at that. "Not me?" 

"You wouldn't want this one. Dreamed Ian was chasing me around in a car. The dreams I have about you are much nicer." 

"Tell me?" 

It's cold outside, still early spring. The sky is clear, though, and without the constant lights of the city it's easy to see stars. Harry misses those when he's in London. He'll have to bring Nick up here sometime, just the two of them. They can curl up on this same chair and watch the stars. Maybe during the meteor showers in August. 

"You're not listening, are you?" Nick's voice barges into his thoughts. 

"Hmmm? Oh, sorry, got distracted." 

"You called me," Nick points out. He doesn't sound angry at all, though. Just fond. The tone settles into Harry's stomach, warm and happy. The chill outside maybe isn't that bad after all. 

"Was thinking about you. Can see the stars here." 

Nick doesn't say anything at the apparent change of topic. 

"How's things in the band retreat?" 

Nick hasn't actually met the rest of the band yet, though he'd met Harry's mum after the auditions. 

"It's alright. Think Louis and Liam are going to be fighting by the end, though." 

"Aren't they always fighting?" Nick asks. 

Harry shrugs, even though Nick can't see it. "Sort of. Liam's pretty strict about practice schedules and rules about what we can eat and drink so we sound good, and Louis doesn't like structure. Doesn't like being ordered around. It's alright when we're not singing, except that they won't let me play FIFA and won't let me have my phone." 

"You've got it now." 

"It's the middle of the night. I stole it back so I could call you. Everyone's asleep. I missed you." 

"It's been two days, I've not thought about you at all." He's teasing, Harry's sure. Harry had called in the middle of the night and Nick had picked up for him. 

"Tell me about your weekend?" Mostly Harry just wants to listen to Nick's voice, that northern ramble that was a big part of his life before they even met. It's so much more now. 

"I think Aims is moving out soon," Nick starts with. Harry leans back and tucks the blanket under his feet as Nick talks. 

He's drifting off a bit when gentle hands shake his shoulder. 

"Nick?"

"Just me," Louis says, handing back his phone. "I told him you fell asleep." 

Harry had wanted to say goodnight himself. He pulls up his texts whilst he's still got access to his phone. For some reason Louis hasn't taken it away again. 

_Sorry I fell asleep. Goodnight. I miss you._ He finishes it with a green heart and a kiss. 

There's no answering typing bubble right away, and Harry tries not to be too disappointed. It _is_ late. 

Louis takes his phone once the screen's gone dark again. Harry watches him switch it off and pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders. 

"It's freezing out here," Louis says. 

"'s why I got a blanket." 

"Share, then." He lies down next to Harry on the lounge chair and Harry curls around him, tucking the blanket as best he can. There's tiny bits of cold air coming through from somewhere near their toes, and they'll have to go in soon if Harry can't fix it. 

They lie in silence for a while, and Harry watches the stars, trying to remember the constellations and how to find them in the sky until Louis speaks again. 

"You're serious about him, aren't you? It's not just a celebrity crush." 

It had been, in the beginning. Harry had been giddy with the idea that Nick Grimshaw fancied _him_ too. But for all that Harry still listens to his show nearly every morning, he sort of forgets that Nick's famous. Nick's job means nothing when they're arguing over what takeaway to get and what telly to watch or when they tuck themselves into a booth at a restaurant, squishing together so that all of Nick's friends can join them too. 

Harry is absolutely serious. He might be in love, but he's not going to say that to Louis before he says it to Nick.

"Yeah. I am." 

"Alright." Louis shivers. "Lets go back in, it's freezing. Don't know what you were thinking." 

"Didn't want to wake anyone up." 

"It's only me. The others are still asleep." Louis stands and holds out his hands for Harry. "Come on. You can put your cold feet on Liam when we go in."

~*~

Bootcamp is just as chaotic as Harry remembers — two whirlwind days of auditions, meetings with producers and waiting for things to happen with some singing and filming thrown in there. There's a lot more cameras around them than Harry remembers from last time, but that's possibly because they're a returning act; they've got a compelling story behind them this time.

Liam goes absolutely insane as soon as they're given access to practice rooms, wanting to go through the songs they'd prepared twice more, each. Luckily Niall had calmed him down, so they'd just warmed up half an hour before they were supposed to sing, and then gone on stage. 

Luckily, there's no dancing anymore. 

They've got two hotel rooms between them, and once they're let go after the end of the first day and first round cuts, Liam calls a band meeting in the room he's got with Zayn and Niall. 

"Can I make a quick call first?" Harry's been texting Nick all day between interviews and singing, but he'd promised he'd call. 

"Oh, go on," Niall says. "We'll order food. Just be done by the time it gets here." 

"Or else we're eating yours," Louis chimes in. 

Harry shuts the door hotel door and locks them out before pulling out his phone. 

There's a few more texts from Nick that he hasn't been able to get to yet, and he smiles as he scrolls through, but really it's just wasting time they could be talking. He hits the call button instead and lies back on the bedspread whilst he waits for Nick to pick up. 

It takes a few rings, but when he answers he's slightly out of breath.

"Hiya." 

"Are you running?" Probably not, Nick's allergic to exercise. 

"Just over at Gellz's. Wanted to get some privacy to answer the phone first." 

If Harry concentrates he can hear the low rumble of Nick's friends in the background, though it's hard to pick up. He must be in the bedroom or toilet. Harry likes the idea of their chats being something private, since it often feels like nothing else is among Nick's friends. 

"How was today, you lot still alive?" 

"We're still in, yeah. Though I think Louis might actually kill Liam before long. Or the other way around. They're filming us a lot. More than I remember." 

"It's a good story, innit? Gives you some momentum going into the live shows." 

"Still have to get through tomorrow. And judges' houses." Harry frowns, a bit bitter. That's where it had all fallen apart last time, and Nick knows that. 

"I know, love. But you're fine, yeah?" Nick's voice is soft in a way that it never is. Normally, Nick is loud and energetic and Harry loves that. But this soft, quiet thing is nice too. Even nicer in person, but Harry will take what he can get right now. 

"We're fine. Liam's pushing hard, but we all want this. It's just more than I remember. I think I blocked it out last time. Traumatic amnesia or something." 

"I don't think that's a thing." 

"Sure it is. I looked it up and everything." Harry sighs. "Tell me about your day. Is Aimee actually moving?" 

"She's packing, but I don't think Ian's asked yet? Think she's going to do it one box at a time until he can't get rid of her. Just leave more and more things at his until she's gone. Once she's gone we can finally shag on the sofa." 

"We haven't even shagged in your _bed_ yet," Harry points out. "Proper shagged, I mean." Not for lack of wanting on Harry's part, at least, and he thinks the same is true of Nick. They have messed around a bit, and Harry's not soon going to forget the feel of Nick's hands on his chest and back and dick. Harry palms himself through his jeans. Now is absolutely not the time for any of that; one of the others could come barging in at any moment to tell him that dinner's arrived, but Harry's been thinking about it for a long time. Longer than he's known Nick, really. 

"Mmmm," Nick hums. 

"What are you doing tomorrow night?" It's a Sunday night, so Nick's still go the radio Monday morning, but that's never really stopped him from going out. 

"Watching telly? I don't know." 

This invitation shouldn't feel like such a huge deal, but somehow it is. He goes out with Nick's friends all the time. Well, sometimes.

"We're going out tomorrow night, all of us, no matter what happens. And our families will be here too. Do you want to come?"He's been meaning to ask Nick about this for ages. Harry holds his breath without thinking about it. 

"Do I finally get to meet the rest of the band, then?" 

"I knew you were only using me to get to Zayn. Can't say I blame you, he's very pretty." Harry pauses for a moment. "But will you come?" 

"Of course I will," Nick says. "Celebration or owt else. It'll be a right proper celebration, though." 

There's a knock on Harry's door. Niall shouts through that _food's here_!

"I'll text you the details. I've got to go before they eat my dinner." 

"Good luck tomorrow." 

"Thanks." There's more that Harry wants to say, but on the phone in a shit hotel room isn't right. "I'll see you tomorrow," he says instead. 

"Tomorrow." 

There's a long silence where neither of them say anything, but they don't hang up either. Niall bangs on Harry's door again, reminding him that there's food, and that he's suddenly very hungry. 

"Bye," he says and hangs up.

~*~

The pub is crowded and noisy by the time Nick gets there. He's a little bit later than he'd meant to be, but only because the taxi had driven past a florist on the way and Nick had decided in that moment that he needed to get some flowers. Roses had seemed a bit much, but after a long five minutes he'd settled on a mixed bouquet with lilies and a bunch of other flowers he can't identify. But it looks well nice.

Walking in, it's readily apparent that the flowers won't last all that long in the crowd, but it's the thought that counts, and he cradles them in his hand as he pushes through and looks for Harry. 

Once he identifies the source of the chaos, it's easy enough to find him, his hair making him stand out from everyone else. It still takes another minute to push his way over and get Harry's attention with a tap to the shoulder. 

Immediately, Harry's face melts into a smile and he slides close so he can wrap his arm around Nick's shoulder and kiss him hello, unintentionally squishing his flowers. 

"I've got something for you," Nick says against Harry's mouth. It's not much of a snog, given that they're in the middle of a party of Harry's best friends and their families, but he hasn't seen Harry in ages. 

Harry doesn't back away, but he does slide a hand up under Nick's t-shirt to rest his hand at the small of Nick's back. "Yeah?" 

"You're squishing them, you menace." Nick pokes Harry in the side and he squirms but still doesn't pull away, just looks down to where the flowers are resting in the crook of Nick's arm. You're supposed to give flowers on special occasions.

"They're lovely." Harry kisses Nick again, slower this time. Nick lets his eyes flutter closed. "Thank you." 

"You were brilliant," Nick says. 

"You weren't there," Harry says. 

"Doesn't matter. I've heard you sing." 

Harry smiles and kisses him one more time before pulling back and taking the flowers into his own arms. He's wearing skinny jeans and a plain white shirt that's clinging to his chest just a bit, and Nick doesn't bother to hide that he really likes the view. 

"You've not heard the rest of us," Harry points out. "Come on, I'll introduce you." 

Harry leads him through to the table that's full of empties, chairs stacked high with coats and jackets whilst everyone is on their feet clustered in small groups. Nick leaves his jacket and Harry lays his flowers out on the table gently. Nick doesn't have much hope for their survival, but Harry seems pleased with them anyway. 

Nick meets Liam first, then Niall. Harry stays right by his side until Nick realizes that he's not got a drink yet whilst watching Niall drink down the last of his pint. 

On their way to the bar, Harry is waylaid by his mum, who gives Nick a hug and a kiss on the cheek. He chats with Anne for a minute before going to get drinks for them both, leaving Harry and Anne alone. As he waits he looks over the crowd gathered for these boys, family and probably friends from home, all come out to celebrate. It's crowded inside, but the mood is high, and there's a lot of laughing.

By the time he gets back to Harry, his small circle has expanded a bit. Nick meets Harry's sister, Zayn, Niall's dad, and Louis. Finally. 

"So you're the one," Nick says, taking in Harry's best friend and flatmate. Louis is standing in front of him, glaring, arms crossed and chest puffed out. Louis' glare only breaks when Harry gets a finger into his side. He goes soft and squirms away, smiling up at Harry. 

"You two would be nowhere without me," Louis declares. "I expect to be showered with gifts as a token of your gratitude." 

"I only brought the one bouquet," Nick says. "And it wasn't for you." 

"Flowers. Good choice." Louis' eyes sweep over Nick. Harry slides into NIck's space again, taking Nick's drink which leaves Nick's arm free to wrap around Harry's back and hold onto his hip. 

"Harry!" 

Harry looks over at where Liam has a hand in the air and is gesturing for Harry to join them. 

Nick kisses him on the cheek. "Go on. I'll be fine." 

Harry smiles back at Nick before pushing through the crowd. 

"Just so you know," Louis says, arms crossed again. He's standing with his feet planted and his chin turned up in a move Nick thinks is supposed to be intimidating. "If you break his heart, you'll answer to the rest of us." 

There is absolutely nothing intimidating about any of Harry's band. Liam could maybe do some damage if he put his mind to it, but from what Harry's said he's too sweet to even want to. Louis is just small and soft and about as intimidating as a field mouse. Nick doesn't doubt his sincerity, though. 

"I'm not planning on it," Nick says. "I like him a lot." 

"Keep it that way." Louis leaves, and Nick finds himself drawn into a conversation with Anne, who, it turns out, listens to his show a lot as well. It's very easy to see where Harry got his smile. 

When last call comes, Nick decides that he probably should get home, as he has to be up in the morning. Harry's been wandering around and talking to everyone's families all night, but finds his way back to Nick every ten minutes or so, bringing warm touches and smiles and soft kisses. Nick waits for the next one.

"I need to go," Nick says. "Have to be awake in the morning to wake everybody else up." 

Harry looks almost shy when he responds. "Can I come with you?" 

Nick isn't stupid, he knows what Harry's asking. And he's done shows on less sleep before.

"Yeah." He leans in and kisses Harry, drawing him close as he does. 

"I'll get your jacket," Harry says, disappearing towards the table. 

Even though it's bit chilly outside, Nick goes to flag a taxi and opens the door, waiting for Harry to come out and find him. It only takes a few minutes. 

When they get back to Nick's flat, he reaches into his jacket pocket for his keys, only to find that they're missing. 

"Fuck. I'm going to have to call Aimee again." 

"Hold on." Harry shifts the flowers into his other hand and digs into his pocket, coming out with Nick's keys. "I think we switched again." 

Nick kisses Harry and takes the keys from him, quickly finding the one for his flat and unlocking the door. They stumble inside and Harry wanders to the kitchen. 

"Have you got any vases?" 

"Don't know. Grab a pint glass or a bowl or summat." 

The flat is empty, Nick having texted ahead for Aimee to clear out, so he comes up behind Harry in the kitchen and slides his hands over Harry's stomach, feeling the muscles go taut and trembly as he hooks his chin over Harry's shoulder. 

"Or," Nick suggests, "you could leave the flowers alone." 

"I want them to last. You gave them to me." 

"I'll buy you more. As many as you want." 

"I like these ones." The wrapping is crinkled and the petals on the biggest flowers are a bit bruised and mangled, but Harry is unwrapping the paper gently and filling a glass with water. 

Nick waits and watches over Harry's shoulder whilst he stands them upright by leaning them against the wall behind the counter, as the bouquet is much too big for a pint glass. Nick thinks he'll have to go buy a vase tomorrow.

Tonight, though, he's got Harry and a promise that they won't be interrupted. 

He bites at Harry's neck, sweeping his hair out of the way with one hand so he can get at the smooth skin. 

"Nick," Harry groans, low in his throat. Nick can feel it through his lips. 

"Come to bed," Nick says. "I've not got all night." 

Harry twists in his arms so they can kiss properly, Harry's arms sliding around Nick's neck and his mouth opening so easily under Nick's. It feels warm and cozy here in the kitchen, more because the flowers smell amazing. Even so, it's not where Nick wants to end the night. 

It's a slow walk to the bedroom, their legs tangling more than they manage to make them work properly, bumping into walls and messing up Nick's pictures as they go. He'll have to straighten all of them tomorrow, but right now it's the last thing he needs to worry about. He should be worried about whether he's got condoms in; he doesn't fancy a late night trip to the shops. 

Harry's arms get tangled in his shirt when Nick tries to help him remove it, and they both dissolve into giggles whilst Harry twists out of Nick's arms to free himself, tossing his shirt into a corner in the end. Nick's comes off easily enough, and then they both sit down to take off their boots and skinny jeans. Harry gets his off first, without falling over, and then he's just standing there in his pants waiting for Nick to catch up. 

"You're still in your pants," Nick points out. He's only seen Harry completely naked the one time, when Harry was too drunk to remember that they barely knew each other. Now, he knows that Harry prefers to wear as little clothing as possible, as often as he can, which translates into him wandering around in Nick's flat just like this. "It's not exactly a special, now is it?" 

"Maybe I want you to take them off me?" 

They could barely do that with a plain shirt, but maybe if he gets Harry laid out on the bed it won't be such a problem. And Nick definitely wants to the be one sliding them down and off Harry's gorgeous legs. He takes his own off to make things go a bit faster. 

"Heyyyyy," Harry protests when he sees what Nick's done. "I wanted to do that." 

"Next time," Nick promises. "Now get on the bed." 

Harry falls backwards and swings his legs up, draping himself in the middle of the bed and reaching his arms out for Nick. Nick goes easily, settling himself between Harry's legs, lining up their hips. He's not hard yet, but he will be very soon, and he can feel where Harry is starting to poke at his hip. 

"Tell me what you want," Nick says. 

Harry thrusts his hips up against Nick and wraps his legs around Nick's hips, pulling him closer with every bit of his body. He kisses Harry, deep and hard, delaying his answer for long minutes as they hold each other close and breathe together. 

"I want you to fuck me," Harry says. "I've been waiting ages." 

Nick reaches between them and runs the back of his hand down the hard line of Harry's cock, feeling the heat of it through the soft cotton of his pants. 

"No, I don't think so." Nick can't keep the smile off his face, and Harry smiles up at him as well.

He'd better have condoms. 

First things first, he's got to get Harry out of his pants. Carefully, he peels the elastic away from Harry's belly, watching as his cock springs free, curving up against Harry's stomach, the tip already wet and shining. Nick can't help but lean down to taste him, running his thumb over the head before taking it into his mouth and sucking gently. Harry's thighs are trapped by his pants, which are still half off him, but he twists in the sheets, one hand digging into Nick's hair and holding on. It's right at the edge of how Nick likes it. They'll have to talk about these things later, because he'd really love to get Harry to come in his mouth sometime soon. Tonight is about something else, though, so Nick doesn't spend too long sucking his cock. Just long enough to get a taste. 

He moves lower and bites at Harry's thighs once he gets Harry's pants all the way off and is working his way back up. He bites at Harry's hip, too, at the soft flesh just above his hipbones. 

Harry whines when Nick has to pull away to dig through the cabinet in his ensuite. He's got lube by the bed, but he's not brought anyone home in ages, so he has to dig around to find the condoms. He finds a box under the sink and crows in triumph, and gets back to find Harry sitting up against the pillows lazily stroking himself. 

"Hands off, that's mine." Nick tells him, tossing a condom out on the bed and dropping the rest of the box on the floor. 

Harry immediately clasps his hands up above his head, giving Nick a perfect view of his long, lean body spread out against the white sheets. 

He digs out the lube fast enough and lies down next to Harry, hooking a leg over Harry's and leaning in for a kiss. 

There's a bit of a time limit on this, but Nick takes some time as he moves down Harry's chest to nibble at his nipples and to taste his skin. He's a bit sweaty from a long day and a long night at the pub after.

Harry is so responsive, muscles flexing under Nick's fingers as he goes. He laughs when Nick hits ticklish spots, squirming away from his fingers with his dimples showing in full. 

Nick opens Harry up slowly, taking his time teasing at the tight skin of Harry's hole, getting him wet and slick before sliding a finger in. He can feel every small movement from Harry, feels the way Harry is clenching around him and pushing his hips back against him trying to get more. It's going straight to Nick's cock and he gives Harry a second finger before too long. 

It takes a few tries before Nick finds his prostate, but when he does, the result is gorgeous. Harry arches his back out and lets his legs fall open even more, groaning low in his throat. Nick wants to take his time, play with Harry, maybe even make him come just from this. 

_Next time_ , he promises himself. He really wants there to be a next time. 

Harry kicks out and nudges at Nick's chest with his toes just as Nick's adding a third finger. "I'm ready, come on." 

Harry is panting and sweaty, but he still feels tight around Nick's fingers. Nick bites at his hip. 

"None of that," Nick says, smoothing his fingers over Harry's prostate. He can feel the way Harry shivers when he does that. It's addictive; he does it again. He also mouths at Harry's thighs, leaving wet trails as he goes. He blows on them and smiles as Harry breaks out in goosepimples before smoothing his hand over Harry's skin to get them to go down again. 

Harry's cock is still hard and lying against his belly, so Nick mouths at that too, little lick and nudges that have it twitching under his lips. 

He adds more lube and carefully works his fingers until Harry is loose and relaxed around them, even as he's gripping Nick's shoulder hard enough to bruise. He licks at Harry's hip one more time before pulling his fingers out and moving up the bed to lie down next to Harry and get the condom.

"Want to turn over, love?" Nick kisses him because he's right there and his mouth is bitten-red and warm. Nick rolls the condom down his cock and adds a bit more lube to it before wiping his hand on Harry's side. Harry laughs, eyes sparking. 

"No," Harry says. "I want to see you." 

Nick nods and kisses Harry again before sitting up and kneeling between Harry's spread legs. The soft skin of his thighs is still so inviting, so Nick takes the invitation and skims his fingers over it, watching as Harry shivers. 

Harry reaches for him, and Nick lines himself up, pushing in slowly as Harry's heels dig into his legs. When he's fully in, hips pressed tight against Harry, he strains forward to kiss him, bending Harry nearly in half to get at his mouth for a long minute. 

Nick moves slowly at first, trying to keep kissing Harry at the same time, but it doesn't work for long. Instead, they end up messily clashing their lips and tongues together whilst Nick holds on to Harry's thigh and thrusts. 

Nick isn't sure he'll ever see anything more gorgeous than this; Harry's eyes are half closed, but shining when he manages to focus. When he focuses on _Nick_. His hair is an absolute mess, sticking up in all directions and fanning out across the pillows; Nick is sure it'll be sticking up oddly when they're done. He's flushed pink down past his collarbones, an inviting color that Nick has permission to touch and taste. So he does, biting down on Harry's neck, just behind his ear. He loves the way he can feel Harry's moans through his lips as well. 

As Nick speeds up, unable to hold back anymore, it gets a bit messy. Harry is smiling at him, though, and reaching between them to stroke his cock, his other hand over Nick's, holding one knee open for him. 

Harry comes first, with a whine. His face screws up and then falls open again and he's clenching around Nick, fingers digging into Nick's hand. Nick slows down as he comes, reaching between them to dip his fingers into Harry's come and toy with the sensitive head of his cock. Harry clenches around him as he does, and Nick speeds up again, desperate to follow Harry over the edge. 

It doesn't take much. Harry strokes his come-covered hand over Nick's chest and starts playing with his nipples. He's moving slowly, like every bit of energy has drained out of him. His lips are slack and lazy, and when Nick bends down to kiss him, he thrusts twice more and comes, pressing as close and breathing hard against Harry's lips as he spills into the condom. 

He stays where he is for another minute before pulling out and tying off the condom to toss into the bin next to the bed. Harry moves faster than he usually does, seeking out Nick again and wrapping his arms around him. 

"I barely got to touch you," Harry whines into Nick's shoulder, as they cool down, breath and heartbeats evening out as they lie tangled together. Nick needs to get up in a minute, needs to get a flannel to clean up a bit before they fall asleep, but it's quite comfortable where he is. 

"Next time," he says. "I promise." 

"You're making a lot of promises tonight." 

Nick's noticed that too. He has no idea what he's saying other than that he wants Harry to stick around. 

"Am I waking you up in the morning?" Nick is really sleepy now, and Harry is curled into his chest. Cleanup can wait until morning. "Have you got anywhere to be?" 

Harry doesn't answer for so long that Nick thinks he might be asleep already. 

"No," he says finally, voice more rumble than sound. "I'll fry up some bacon for when you're finished." 

Nick lands a gentle kiss on Harry's forehead and closes his eyes too. "Sounds perfect."

**Author's Note:**

> The original Avocado-in-pocket story is from [here](http://iraffiruse.net/post/82322836399). All other mentioned Craigslist adds are real, and found in the London Missed Connection pages.


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